Dear Dad (~1 year out)

Dear Dad,

I have honestly been avoiding this post. I have had the empty draft post up for a few hours and keep finding other things to do. And even after writing those two sentence, I found yet more things to turn my attention away.

I'm watching Top Chef right now as I type this. We used to watch that together. While clearing out your storage unit, I found your colorful folders of recipes and found the eggs benedict recipe from the show we tried once (I think it was Fabio's). I remember we poached the eggs, but they were far from pretty. I also remember that I successfully made hollandaise sauce, but then you over mixed it and it broke. We added butter to it though and it turned out okay.

I guess I don't know what to say (maybe that's why I've been avoiding this post).

It's been almost a year since you passed. I spoke to you via a WhatsApp video call the day before. It was brief, but you told me you loved me and I said the same. Mom visited you and is the one who made the call. She encouraged me to see you soon, but I was so desensitized to being told you had so little time left that I guess I didn't believe her.

I got the call that you'd passed while at work. God, I will never forget how I was treated after you passed. The managers said pretty words, but willfully neglected to tell me the bereavement options I had, which negated anything delicate about what they'd said.

But this isn't a rant about that job (I've since left). I remember how the call started and how they said they'd gotten a call about you not having a heartbeat. I kept waiting for them to say "but then". But then, that phrase never came. Instead, I was given your finality.

You were gone.

We would never mend what was broken.

I would never hear you tell me you loved me again.

You would never meet my children.

I am fiercely itchy right now. Perhaps that is just my body trying to distract myself from memories of you, but it's more likely the eczema I've developed (though I believe you contributed to my genetic pre-disposition for that).

It's odd. I feel like tomorrow might just feel like another day. Every day is a day that you aren't here. And that will be the truth into eternity.

Your birthday wasn't any other day though. I was immensely angry and immensely sensitive. I felt like I was a bubbling pot and no one was noticing. No one was looking to see if I was boiling over. I kept my lid on because I was around other people, but I simmered for days.

Will tomorrow be better? I guess we'll see.

I do love you.

And I do miss you.

I think that's all I have right now.

Love,

Your Daughter

(Prompt by me)

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